Because I could not stop for Death He kindly stopped for me The Carriage held but just Ourselves And Immortality. We slowly drove He knew no haste And I had put away My labor and my leisure too, For His Civility POEM #1: Because I could not stop for Death By: Emily Dickinson We passed the School, where Children strove At Recess in the Ring We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain We passed the Setting Sun Or rather He passed us The Dews drew quivering and chill For only Gossamer, my Gown My Tippet only Tulle We paused before a House that seemed A Swelling of the Ground The Roof was scarcely visible The Cornice in the Ground Since then 'tis Centuries and yet Feels shorter than the Day I first surmised the Horses' Heads Were toward Eternity
POEM #2: The Sailor by the Sea By: Lonnie Adrift I'll tell a tale, a thrilling tale of love beyond compare I knew a lad not long ago more gorgeous than any I've seen. And in his eyes I found myself a'falling in love with the swain. Oh, the glorious fellow I met by the ocean with eyes of deep-sea green! He was a rugged sailor man with eyes of deep-sea green, And I a maid, a tavern maid! Whose living was serving beer. So with a kiss and with a wave, off on his boat he sailed And left me on the dock, the thief! Without my heart, oh dear! And with a heart that's lost at sea, I go on living still. I still am now still serving beer in that tavern by the sea. And though the pay check's still the same, the money won't go as far For now I feed not just myself, but my little one and me! So let that be a lesson, dear, and keep your heart safely hid. I gave mine to a sailing thief with gorgeous eyes of green. Save yours for a sweeter lad who makes the land his home. Ah me! If only I'd never met that sailor by the sea! "I cannot go to school today." Said little Peggy Ann McKay. POEM #3: From Sick By: Shel Silverstein
POEM #4: Oh bed my bed Our day has just begun It snowed today No work, hooray I might sleep in til one Oh bed my bed I love to lay on you You're there for me Whenever I need You make me feel brand new Oh bed my bed You feel so good to me When I'm all tucked in With eyes closed grin I get the sleep I need Oh bed my bed How you make time fly My eyes I closed And then arose To find that noon was nigh Oh bed my bed You make my day so bright But now it s time For the daily grind But I'll be back tonight --Author Unknown
POEM #5: After Turkey Day By: Denise Rodgers After Turkey Day, the garbage bags sat; My dog was tempted by the tasty sight. He tore them open, gorged big, and grew fat, But first he made a mess and caused some blight. He ate some hot sauce and blueberry pies, Then laid around and moaned out loud in pain. I worried in my heart of his demise, And tried to scrub the purple carpet stain. He slowly came around and waddled slow, His belly wide and nearly to the floor. So sad to see my hungry doggy grow So portly wide, he barely fit his door. He survived, but still he is more than stout. I ve learned. Next time I ll take the garbage out! POEM #6: Untitled By: Basho Matsuo An old silent pond... A frog jumps into the pond, splash! Silence again.
POEM #7: The Defense of the Alamo By: Joaquin Miller Santa Anna came storming, as a storm might come; There was rumble of cannon; there was rattle of blade; There was cavalry, infantry, bugle and drum-- Full seven proud thousand in pomp and parade, The chivalry, flower of all Mexico; And a gaunt two hundred in the Alamo! And thirty lay sick, and some were shot through; For the siege had been bitter, and bloody and long. "Surrender or die!"--"men, what will you do?" And Travis, great Travis, drew sword, quick and strong; Drew a line at his feet... Will you come? Will you go? I die with my wounded, in the Alamo." Then Bowie gasped, "Guide me over that line!" Then Crockett, one hand to the stick, one hand to his gun, Crossed with him; then never a word or a sign, Till all, sick or well, all, all save but one, One man. Then a woman stopped praying and slow Across, to die with the heroes of the Alamo. Then that one coward fled, in the night, in that night When all men silently prayed and thought Of home; of tomorrow; of God and the right, Till dawn; then Travis sent his single last cannon-shot, In answer to insolent Mexico, From the old bell-tower of the Alamo. Then came Santa Anna; a crescent of flame! Then the red escalade; then the fight hand to hand; Such an unequal fight as never had name Since the Persian hordes butchered that doomed Spartan band. All day--all day and all night, and the morning, so slow, Through the battle smoke mantling the Alamo. Then silence! Such silence! Two thousand lay dead In a crescent outside! And within? Not a breath Save the gasp of a woman, with gory, gashed head, All alone, with her dead there, waiting for death; And she but a nurse. Yet when shall we know Another like this of the Alamo? Shout "Victory, victory, victory ho!" I say, 'tis not always with the hosts that win: I say that the victory, high or low, Is given the hero who grapples with sin, Or legion or single; just asking to know When duty fronts death in his Alamo
POEM #8: Winter By: Nikki Giovanni Frogs burrow in the mud Snails bury themselves And I air my quilts Preparing for the cold Dogs grow more hair Mothers mate oatmeal And little boys and girls Take Father John s Medicine Bears store fat Chipmunks gather nuts And I collect books For the coming winter
POEM #9: After the Sea-Ship By: Walt Whitman After the sea-ship, after the whistling winds, After the white-gray sails taut to their spars and ropes, Below, a myriad myriad waves hastening, lifting up their necks, Tending in ceaseless flow toward the track of the ship, Waves of the ocean bubbling and gurgling, blithely prying, Waves, undulating waves, liquid, uneven, emulous waves, Toward that whirling current, laughing and buoyant, with curves, Where the great vessel sailing and tacking displaced the surface, Larger and smaller waves in the spread of the ocean yearnfully flowing, The wake of the sea-ship after she passes, flashing and frolicsome under the sun, A motley procession with many a fleck of foam and many fragments, Following the stately and rapid ship, in the wake following.
POEM #10: Hiawatha's Departure from The Song of Hiawatha By: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow By the shore of Gitchie Gumee, By the shining Big-Sea-Water, At the doorway of his wigwam, In the pleasant Summer morning, Hiawatha stood and waited. All the air was full of freshness, All the earth was bright and joyous, And before him through the sunshine, Westward toward the neighboring forest Passed in golden swarms the Ahmo, Passed the bees, the honey-makers, Burning, singing in the sunshine. Bright above him shown the heavens, Level spread the lake before him; From its bosom leaped the sturgeon, Aparkling, flashing in the sunshine; On its margin the great forest Stood reflected in the water, Every tree-top had its shadow, Motionless beneath the water. From the brow of Hiawatha Gone was every trace of sorrow, As the fog from off the water, And the mist from off the meadow. With a smile of joy and triumph, With a look of exultation, As of one who in a vision Sees what is to be, but is not, Stood and waited Hiawatha.